Recently NPR began broadcasting a revival of Edward R. Murrow's "This I Believe" series from the '50's. The series, then and now, consists of one- or two-minute essays by people well-known and unknown, stating -- of course -- what they believe. Just yesterday, Diane Rheem broadcast a conversation she had with the director of the current series, complete with rebroadcasts of an assortment of the essays. During the broadcast a listener emailed a question: "I believe I have a right to look forward to enjoying using my boat and staying at my lake cottage. Why should I have loftier goals than that? And why don't you ever select essays that are in the same vein as my beliefs?"
Earlier I had thought of composing my own "This I Believe" piece, but I was stymied as to what I might want to say. Surely I believe something. But how to put it into words? But this listener's comment suddenly brought my thoughts into focus.
For his assumption is that he deserves whatever he has managed to accumulate, that he has no obligation to anyone else. And this is clearly not what I believe.
Let's start with the obvious. (I don't have a boat or a lake cottage, and I am a long way from rich, but I have some material benefits that many others even in this rich country do not have, so -- since I could easily take on this listener's attitude -- let me talk about my situation and my beliefs concerning my situation.) I have some comforts -- a car that goes dependably, a house that is warm -- and I would like to continue enjoying them. But do I have any obligation to others for these things? Well, first of all, I know that I am comfortable because of the work of a lot of other people. I didn't build my car or my house. I don't make my clothing or grow most of my food.
But I worked to earn the money to buy all these things, so they are legitimately mine, right? Right -- up to a point. The news has been full of accounts of deposed CEOs who "worked" for millions of dollars a year and then left with even more millions. Their pay -- in many cases over $1000 per hour, if we do the math -- came from the work of people under them who got paid $10 or $20 an hour. If I were a CEO taking away $1000 an hour, it is clear that someone decided that my work was somehow worth more than $20 an hour. But is my work -- or am I -- worth 50 or 100 times as much as the work of a lower-echelon employee? Do I really need -- or deserve -- a $3 million house, when there are workers struggling to buy or maintain a $100,000 house?
The CEO is an extreme illustration of my moral dilemma. My house is closer to the $100,000 level than to the $3 million level, but I know there are millions of people who do not have as much as I do, people who do not own a house, people who are struggling to get three meals a day, people who cannot afford prescription drugs or even a doctor visit. Though semi-retired, I still work part-time and make a modest but adequate salary -- a salary higher than those of many people who work harder than I do. What have I done to deserve the advantages I have? Truth: I have made some efforts and done some right or good things, but there is a considerable amount of luck involved. If I were luckier, I too might have a million dollars. If I were a little less lucky, I might be living in a cheap apartment -- or not even that -- and worrying about having enough food for the rest of the month.
Part -- a large part -- of the luck involves having the right contacts, connections. If I am part of the right family, or if I come to the attention of the right person (and give the right impression), I may find myself in a well-paid position. Does ability then have nothing to do with it? Of course if I have ability and the right connections, I will rise higher or faster than if I am lacking one or the other. (And obviously there are some who rise by sheer determination, without any other advantages. It can be done.) But in this world, there are millions of people who have talent which they never had the opportunity to develop (because of poor schools, lack of money or direction to attend college, etc.), or they have the ability but never had the connections. (And we have seen numerous examples of people who had little going for them except the connections, so -- while they might not rise as far as would be possible if they also had talent -- they are ensured a more-than-comfortable existence.) I am left with the inescapable certainty that, while talent and hard work tend to improve our chances of success, the workings of society -- luck, connections, family, social status -- tend to have even more effect and can either multiply or cancel the rewards of our own efforts.
But this is not the place to bemoan the fact that I could have had more if I had had better connections or better luck. No, the point here is to recognize that whatever I do have, I have as a result of the work of many others, some of them fairly (or over-)compensated and many perhaps short-changed. I would not have what I have without the (often unfair) workings of society.
And, recognizing that I have what I do have and enjoy in life because of the work of others -- some of them known and many not -- I have to feel an indebtedness to those who made my comfort and security possible. And, since I cannot directly repay (or even identify) many of those to whom I am indebted, I have to feel a more general indebtedness, an obligation to "even the score," to help those less advantaged to attain at least the comfort and security that I enjoy. I have an obligation to try to change the workings of society so that everyone has at least what I feel to be the minimally acceptable degree of comfort and security. I cannot believe that anyone (myself included) is so deserving of luxury that others deserve to go hungry to pay for it.
